


Try And Love Again

by sxldato



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mark of Cain, Post-Mark of Cain, Trans Character, Trans Female Sam Winchester, Trans Sam Winchester, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 21:57:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16072157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxldato/pseuds/sxldato
Summary: Sam confides in Dean and it goes poorly.





	Try And Love Again

**Author's Note:**

> the thrilling second installment of "judah names their fics after eagles songs"   
> this was written for the "painful transformation" square. i took the metaphorical route

“I was thinking,” Sam said, eyes wandering to the open newspaper on the kitchen table and finding an article detailing the progress of the queer movement. Like it was a sign, or something. Sam believed in signs. 

Dean gestures for Sam to go on. “You were thinking?” 

“Maybe, if it’s not too much trouble…” 

“Spit it out, Sammy. What’s going on?” 

“Could you call me ‘she?’“ It comes out in a rush, the words sticking together on Sam’s tongue in one long train of consonants and vowels. 

The crow’s feet around Dean’s eyes deepened as he squinted. “What do you mean?” 

It seemed pretty obvious to her. “Like calling me ‘she’ instead of ‘he,’ and stuff like that. Calling me your sister.”

It wasn’t that it didn’t click for Dean. Sam could tell that Dean understood exactly what she was telling him; he just didn’t want to face it. 

“I’ve felt like this for a while,” she went on, trying to persuade him. “I wasn’t sure what the right time to tell you would be, but… lately it seems like there’s never gonna be a right time, so.” 

Dean took a swig of beer. 

“You sure you wanna do this?” He asked after a beat of silence. 

Sam’s stomach sank. “There’s no  _want._ It’s a part of me.”

“Yeah, no, I get that, it’s just–” Dean shrugged. “It seems like it’s gonna make shit hard.” 

If Sam could go back two minutes and shut herself up, she would. “All that matters to me is whether I have your support,” she said, enunciating her words. “Do I have it?” 

It took Dean more than a second to answer, which wasn’t a good sign. He shouldn’t have had to think about it. He should have said  _yes_ , like a reflex. 

Do you love me?  _Yes._ Would you die for me?  _Yes._ Do you support me no matter what?  _Yes._

Dean wasn’t giving her that yes. All he did was look at her, studying her face. Like he was trying to see her as a woman and failing. 

“I dunno,” Dean said. “I mean, you’re my  _brother_ , Sammy, you’ve always been my  _brother_.” 

Sam bit down on the inside of her cheek and repressed her desire to shout, to throw something, to take Dean by the collar and shake him. 

She took a deep breath and said, “I was afraid you would say that.” 

-

For a while, it did not get better. 

Sam explored womanhood in her own way, as she did with most things. She didn’t wear makeup, but she wore rings on her fingers and painted her nails. She shaved her beard and not her armpits or her legs. She continued to wear flannel, only now unbuttoned to her chest to expose a hint of her bra. 

And she wore boots. Shiny, black leather lace-up boots that went up past her ankle, with a chunky heel that made her two inches taller. Comfortable to walk in. Easy to run in. Dean made it clear from the first time she wore them that he hated those boots. Sam wore them partially because she liked them, and partially out of spite. 

“We’re trying to be inconspicuous,” Dean muttered into his to-go cup. “You really needed to dress like  _that?”_

Sure, Ohio wasn’t the best place to break gender norms, but she’d decided from the beginning that she was going to be true to herself as often as she could. Besides, she was with Dean, who looked like a lumberjack-serial-killer hybrid, and Castiel, who had that whole holy tax accountant vibe going on. 

She’d dealt with similar comments from Dean every day for the past three weeks. She was too tired to get upset.  

“You know what, Dean?” Sam said. “How about, um, you go  _fuck_ yourself–” she punctuated her words by tossing Dean the motel keys– “and we’ll meet up later.” 

Dean caught the keys with no effort. “Don’t talk to me like that,” he growled.  

“I’ll talk however I want until you stop acting like a total jerk.” 

Dean muttered something under his breath, and then louder, “Try not to get your ass beat while I’m gone, Sammy. The only reason you haven’t gotten hurt is ‘cause  _I’m_ around.” 

Dean stalked off down the block, hands jammed into his pockets, leaving Sam rooted to the spot in the parking lot outside the local bar. He might as well have pulled a shotgun out of the trunk and blasted both her kneecaps open. 

She startled as someone touched her arm and turned to see Cas standing beside her. 

“I think you look beautiful,” Castiel offered quietly. 

She shot a look back down the street, where she could barely see Dean through the crowd now. Her face burned. 

“Thanks,” she said, her voice hollow. 

-

Eventually Dean’s focus tore away from her and onto more pertinent things. It seemed like his rage grew every day, and she worried that maybe one of his outbursts would suddenly be directed at her. 

Then Death died and the Mark burned off of Dean’s arm, and despite the looming presence of the Darkness, everything simmered down for a while. 

Sam made a point of not watching Dean for any reactions to her after the Mark vanished. She was holding onto the tiniest thread of hope that all the shit he’d thrown her way over the past month had been because of the Mark, and that it wasn’t a part of Dean. If the past month was the way things would be for the rest of their lives, Sam didn’t think she could do it. 

It was late and Sam was winding down for the night. She had left her door ajar, and Dean poked his head in. 

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” He asked. 

Sam sat on her bed, resting against the headboard with a book in her lap. Her grip on the book tightened when Dean surfaced. “What’s up?” 

Dean took a seat at the foot of the bed, getting close though still maintaining distance– which Sam appreciated. 

“I uh,” Dean began awkwardly. “I owe you a hell of an apology.” 

Sam’s eyes hovered over the words on the page, not really reading them. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah… Can you–?” Dean gestured for Sam to close the book. She set it aside and forced herself to stare down her brother, who appeared more sheepish than she’d expected. 

“I’ve given you a really hard time,” Dean admitted. “About this whole thing you have going on.” He fidgeted with his hands, picking at the skin around his cuticles. “I’m not gonna pretend to understand it, ‘cause I don’t. I mean, what you’re going through, and how you feel, I don’t think I’ll ever get it.” 

“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” Sam said. 

“ _But–”_  Dean steeled himself and locked gazes with her. “It doesn’t matter whether I get it or not. It’s about you, and… and I’m supposed to be there for you, and I wasn’t. Those things I said when I had the Mark– that’s not how I feel.”

“The Mark doesn’t create anger,” Sam said. If Dean was trying to get out of this on a technicality, she wasn’t having it. “It only amplifies what’s already there.” 

“I wasn’t angry,” Dean protested. “I was… confused, and scared.” 

“What the hell did  _you_ have to be scared of, Dean?” Sam snapped. 

“Losing you!” 

The fire in Dean’s eyes died as quickly as it had come. He searched Sam’s face– not the way he had before, when he had scrutinized her. This wasn’t like that. 

Sam  _had_ taken something from Dean, and she realized that; she’d replaced his little brother with a sister. She could acknowledge that it was a big adjustment for him, and that there was a certain grief that came with a change like this. However, that didn’t justify Dean’s behavior. 

“You’re not gonna lose me,” Sam said. “I’m still me, I’m still  _Sam._ ”

“I know.” Dean ducked his head. “It’s just… I see the news, okay? I’m not stupid, I hear about the shit people– people like you have to deal with. And you’ve been through enough crap already. And I thought if I could make you stop, you’d stay outta trouble.” 

Even though was horribly twisted and not at all the right choice, there was a weird sort of logic to it. 

“That’s super fucked up,” she said. 

“I’m not saying it was a good call for me to make,” he replied. 

Sam wouldn’t forget any of the things Dean had said to her, or his scorn, or his complete lack of regard for her. She wasn’t sure if Dean could fix what he’d done. But she was willing to let him try. 

“What are you saying, Dean?” 

“I want you to be happy,” he said. “You know that. That’s– hell, that’s the thing I want most. I should’ve supported you from the beginning, and I’ll kick myself for that for the rest of my life.” 

Dean reached for her hand, and she let him take it. 

“However you find that apple-pie life,” he went on, “whatever it takes to make that happen, I’m behind it a hundred percent. I  _got_ you, Sammy.” 

Sam’s stoic mask began to crumble. Her lower lip wobbled. 

“Really?” 

“I swear to you.” Dean reached over and thumbed away a tear that Sam hadn’t realized had fallen. “You’re… you’re my little sister, right? There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” 

And here came the waterworks. She felt silly crying like this, but Dean backing her up meant the world to her. 

“Thank you,” she croaked.

Dean wrapped his arms around her, and the tension she’d been holding in her shoulders for the past month finally slipped away. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @itsaboutsam! i love hearing from you guys


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